The Family (Or most of them)

The Family

April 28, 2007

Spring cleaning for the single male

CONTRARY TO POPULAR BELIEF, SINGLE MALES ACTUALLY TAKE SPRING CLEANING VERY SERIOUSLY.

I know this, because I am a single male, at least currently, sort of, in body. And so as spring gets sprung, I must pay heed to my hormonal seasonal requirement to throw out the old and bring in the new.Or something like that. Besides, my lease is due and I have to take stock of my surroundings and find whatever dead bodies are around, what repairs need to be made, what I'm going to insist they fix.Before I sign on the bottom line for yet another unsubstantiated increase in rent.So I am not going to show you the dark space behind my washer-dryer, behind my fridge, behind my couch, behind whatever I own, that may be harboring dead creatures or decaying food.No, my focus is on my dreaded storage room, which houses my water heater, my tools that I have not had any reason to use since I've been in this apartment, and the dreaded "space."That is, the "space" that is the "crawlspace," that is the hatch that I have not lifted for months, save for perhaps the time that I threw my goofy son's body in there after yet another failed test at school.There is no point showing you the moribund spring cleaning that I go through...the sweeping of the kitchen floor, the wiping of the toilet, and other such things that I do once or twice a year.No, to be precise, my main focus is on the trap door in my storage room, that crawl space that I hear sounds coming from all winter. It's a space I can never really be sure I haven't thrown my son into.But, according to the following pictures taken today, I haven't. Or at least there are no bones there to reveal that I have. Which is a good thing.

Above, the trap door.

Above, the cluttered storage room it's in...

Below, the trap door is lifted...pretty boring, just a bunch of sand, mostly....

I took pictures in all directions...I see no dead bodies of sons or Homo Escapeons or other bad things...although this pic directly below, with a spider web, is positive...at least a sign of life...

As you can see, it's pretty boring...so what am I going to complain about now? The sticking bedroom door, I suppose, or the noisy air conditioner, or the lousy snow-clearing following a winter storm.

But that all seems so far away now. No, damn it, I'm just going to sign the lease and stay here one more year. And wonder what ugly things are hiding behind the fridge, the couch, the washer-dryer...you know.

So you won't show us the dead creatures and decaying food? Oh, you're no fun at all. Remember once I admitted to hunting down a cockroach who had taken up residence on the bookshelf? Come on, show the nitty gritty ;).

The world of Farcebook

I have kids on Farcebook. And friends. And a fiance. And all are very intelligent human beings.

I am on Farcebook myself. But it is the TV of life now. It is the simple, devoid of ideas, unintelligent way of humans communicating. I am not saying people who don't Farcebook are any more intelligent, necessarily.

They are people who , I believe, are like newspaper readers are to television viewers --people of more depth -- and I mean that with no disrespect.

And they are people who need and want more depth, not less, in their lives.